


Safe

by vargrimar



Series: Deleted Scenes from the Cutting Room Floor [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Missing Scene, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vargrimar/pseuds/vargrimar
Summary: She’s safe, though. She’s safe. She didn’t fall.He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if she fell.





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Another Your Body Is a Weapon short from late 2016 that happens in the midst of chapter 39.
> 
> Prompted by an anon:  
>  _"Could we get a little peak into Junkrat's POV when he pulled Symmetra from the edge and she landed on top of him?"_

She’s safe.

_She’s safe._

Thank god, she’s fucking safe.

Jamison wrangles her up with all of the strength he can muster. It’s work and it’s taxing and his knee hurts from scraping against the lip of the building and his stomach screams because his abdominals have not had this much action in quite a while, but he grips onto her gauntlet and squeezes at her hand and heaves her onto the roof.

The next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back with Symmetra splayed over top of him.

He doesn’t remember how his arm got across her back, but he can’t be bothered. All he knows is that bastard is gone and she’s _safe_ and his heart is machine gun fire pounding upon the walls of his ribs and his body doesn’t know what to do with itself.

He sucks in full breaths, drinking in smoke strewn oxygen with the residual smell of his explosives, and it pulls in through his body as pleasant aftershocks threaded beneath the potent high of combat. His metal hand scratches on the rooftop, mimicking the trigger of his launcher, watching cherry grenades plunge through plumes of black mist under his eyes, and he wishes he’d had the chance to bite a pin and shove its smile behind that stupid mask. It’d really give him something to grin about; teach him that you don’t threaten his friends and get away unscathed.

She’s safe, though. She’s safe. She didn’t fall. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if she fell. Maybe she’d be able to make another teleporter in the time it would take her to meet the pavement–

 _No._ No, he’s not going to think about that. He’s not going to think about her slipping from the building and he’s not going to think about the fall to the ocean and he’s not going to think about her in danger because she’s safe, she is, _thank god_ , she’s all right.

Jamison draws in another shuddering inhale. He opens his eyes and stares at the soft clouds smeared overhead. The wind herds them along in clustered strokes, and if he really squints, he thinks he can see her teleporter among their wispy, fragmented shapes.

Gently, he starts to knead into her shoulder. She’s shivering and cold and it reminds him too much of the suspended moments plummeting toward the ocean. He can feel her breaths against his skin, thin and shallow like she’s trying to recover, and it summons prickles down his arm and down to the base of his backbone.

Jamison shuts his eyes once more and steeps in the aftermath. Her hands grip too tightly at his sides and her weight atop him is _real_ and his heart refuses to slow and he’s having trouble getting his thoughts to cooperate. All he can think of is how she’d kissed him at the outcrop, soft and warm and pleasant against his cheek, and how she’d left before he could think of a way to respond.

His fingers continue to move in absent patterns, placing placating pressures across her shoulder blade.

 _Don’t need to worry_ , he doesn’t say. It’s stuck in his throat between staggered exhales and he can’t get it out. _I got your back. You got mine._

He’s so bloody glad he left her that detonator.


End file.
